“Wild in the Woods”
By Maggi Smith Hall
South Carolina The Sandlapper, Fall 1996
Learning’s gone WILD! That’s because the “hands on” approach to teaching land ethics and ecology has moved outside. In the past decade environmental education centers have sprouted up from the wetlands of the southeast to the arid plains of the west, and they’ve taken root in South Carolina.
These outdoor learning centers employ firsthand interaction with nature’s array of materials, inspiring strong commitment in the young to be wise stewards of the land they hold for their grandchildren. For the not-so-young they offer a place of solitude to revitalize the soul and reconnect with nature and to escape from the madness of modernity and society’s often intense and destructive preoccupation with bureaucracy and technology. These centers are, quite simply, the purest of remedies for a variety of ills.
Want to see what all the excitement’s about? Then come along and experience South Carolina’s students enveloped in the arms of Mother Earth…
They’re late. But that’s normal. School busses have a will of their own. Instructors at the center — well-trained volunteers, professional educators, and scientists – await the opportunity to share their knowledge with a fresh group of students. Bumps, grinds, and a backfire resound as a yellow and black mechanical monster looms into view – an obvious invasion to our sensibilities in this tranquil setting. It lurches cautiously into a parking space, sputters and stops. This ritual is witnessed almost daily at any one of South Carolina’s nature centers. Found tucked off the beaten path, down an unpaved road, or nestled in a hammock of hardwood and pine, woodland schools are becoming THE approach to conservation education.
The door of the bus snaps open but no one appears. Students are receiving last minute instructions on behavior while teachers gather courage to abandon the familiar for the unfamiliar – classrooms under the trees, rain or shine.
Finally we see kids bounce from the bus and down the trail, glad to be free from the restrictions of metal and glass. Mouths pop with questions like a chunk of fatlighter tossed into the flame; the first always, “Where’s the bathroom?”
Visits to the water shed complete, curious students and their teachers sit beneath a canopy of pines as quietly as the needles that fall about them. An instructor welcomes them by saying “Raise your hand if you’ve never been for a walk in the woods.” Over half the class tentatively, even embarrassingly, lifts their arms heavenward. For their teachers sitting amongst them, the winds of this revelation sweep them toward stunned reality.
Then much to everyone’s surprise the instructor enthusiastically throws out her arms and shouts, “Come on everybody, let’s wake up the wildlife!”
Students need very little encouragement to join in the fun. Voices scream in unison, swaying the Spanish moss hanging from the branches of a nearby oak. Resurrection fern, parched as the face of an old Indian scout, threatens to come to life from the moisture of the sound. Feathered creatures, alarmed, take flight, circle, then regain safety behind mixture foliage – holly, sweet gum, and bay. And school teachers freeze in horror as their worst nightmare becomes reality – students out-of-control!
Noisy? Certainly! But now these future leaders of tomorrow are squirming on the edge of their rough outdoor benches, every bone and muscle in their body tingling with intrigue. But more importantly, their minds are wide awake, freed from traditional learning methods as if they ran pell-mell down a wooded trail crisscrossed with silken webs of entrapment. And in that wild run they liberated more than a spider’s prey.
Next the instructor asks, “Look around you and tell me what you see, hear, smell, and feel.”
They do, inhibitions floating toward the bus at the front of the refuge. “Birds chirping…trees… water…us…scared…smelly mud…happy…a Cabin! Can we go inside?”
“Yes!” the instructor responds, seeing before her sponges of all sizes and shapes, freshly harvested from the ocean floor, just waiting to absorb a message from the wild. Sitting in an outdoor classroom, anticipation makes the students wiggle in their seats.
“Now, look at the ground. Pick up a bit of nature.” While they do she explains the difference between “natural” and “manmade.” Students discover a beetle, twigs, soil, a dead ant or leaves. They take turns explaining what they are holding and why each is needed for a balanced world. They talk of relationships with each other and to nature. They define biodiversity and discuss how monotonous the world would be if everything were the same.
“Pretend you’re at a shopping mall. Would you find these natural specimens there?”
“No,” most answer. Students then become actively involved in a discussion about land use, drawing conclusions as to the value of conservation.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” the instructor says with intentional softness. This causes the students to shift on their benches, inching closer to hear. Leaning forward she whispers:
“Fall in love with the earth, students. Fall in love with the earth.”
After this typical introduction to a “wild day in the woods,” students are divided into small groups to begin concurrent classes.
“Snake!” pierces the silent forest as a student trips over an unplanned wildlife “experience.” Dozens of panicked feet are heard pummeling the earth. Then a voice commands, “Stop! Remember what I taught you!”
Moving on we watch an eager nine year old demand of a partner, “Give me the net! It’s my turn to catch a bug!” The assignment: capture, identify, then release a dozen insect specimens.
Walking to the pond we observe a six year old girl with fancy pumps on her feet and pink bows in her hair. She is whining, “But I don’t wanna touch that slimy old thing.”
The instructor gently explains that “in order to catch a fish you must first feed it.” Later that day our barefoot fisher-girl, ribbons untied, is seen releasing her first catch back into the pond.
And on the other side of the lake comes, “Now remember students, if you stand up in a canoe you’ll tip over.” The instructor hopes they have been hanging, for the past ten minutes, on his every world – their lives depend on it.
Eighth grade boys and girls attach life jackets to their inexperienced bodies, board the multi-colored fiberglass canoes, and pick up the foreign object which will propel them across the glassy lake – if they remember how their teacher showed them – “In, pull, out…repeat…” The instructor breathes easily as all drift from shore without incident. Now to get them back dry!
Then their school teacher enters her canoe, immediately falling back and into the water. The instructor, attempting to suppress a smile, inquires, “Weren’t you listening to our lesson?”
Activities vary at each center dependent upon geography, weather, season, and instructor expertise and are usually held outside so as to incorporate a field study approach to learning. Courses in writing, art, math, outdoor skills, and science are offered to individuals of all ages, intellects, and physical abilities. Classes run the gamut from insect collection to reptile study and bird watching; to measurement, volume, and ratio of natural objects; from water quality and soil study to astronomy; and from tree and wildflower identification to paper making and creative writing executed with a gull’s quill and freshly squeezed berry juice. Even night classes are planned: owl prowls, spider spotting, and campouts. Activities are designed for school classes, community and church groups, as well as entire families.
These woodland schools offer mini-courses of two hours to a full week, overnight experience in the wild. Centers have their own set of regulations with minimal instructional fees dependent upon the number of students involved, the length of the class, and the instructional lessons requested. Generally the grounds are open to the public free of charge.
Forests once silent and untrammeled are now vital classrooms bringing to life knowledge from the static page of a manmade textbook. Colors and hues, sounds and silence, smells and feelings – all five senses – are combined to enforce a vivid learning experience.
It is through this physical and spiritual interaction with Mother Nature that we are able to acknowledge that our natural resources are, indeed, finite. Internalizing this realization permits us to perceive the significance of the human condition – our connection to and dependence upon the natural world – from the rays of the sun to the microscopic life forms that rest at the bottom of the sea.
South Carolinians are heeding the call of the wild and meeting the pressing obligation to protect their natural world. By creating environmental education centers through both private and public funding, they are assuring a better tomorrow for future generations. And by supporting these woodland schools, South Carolinians are confirming that environmental education is not a luxury; it is THE essential element in protecting our natural heritage and ultimately the survival of Planet Earth.
South Carolinians are recognizing that, above all, their children are their greatest natural resource. And as they touch the hearts of their children through environmental education, they touch the pulse of the universe, embracing Dioum’s passionate message:
“In the end we will conserve only what we love.
We will love only what we understand.
And we will understand only what we are taught”
About the author: Maggi Smith Hall, a 27 year public school teacher, established in the early 1990s the second environmental education center in South Carolina. Located at Fork Retch in Mullins, the non-profit outdoor organization, Wildlife Action, where she held a leadership position, acquired acreage adjacent to the Little Pee Dee River. What better use of the property than to turn it into a learning center. For this three year project she received national and state awards. As of 2019 the Center remains actively teaching future generations to “Fall in love with the Earth.”